Interlude
by Saturdaychick
Summary: Previously, Raoul was informed by Meg that Christine would be late, possibly very, very late (as she is secretly with Erik) for their dinner engagement. Deciding to wait for her, he finds himself spending the evening at a local bistro.


**Interlude**

Raoul, having received Meg's message that Christine would be delayed, made his way to a bistro directly across from the Opera House, and seated himself at an outdoor table with a view of the Opera House's entrance.  
A waiter appeared with a menu and a wine list. Raoul thanked him, and the waiter, recognizing Raoul as one of the very famous and wealthy de Chagnys, retreated back inside the bistro and whispered to the owner that a celebrity was seated outside.

"Monsieur, welcome, we are honored to have you as a patron" said the owner, warmly greeting Raoul.  
Raoul looked up and saw a neatly dressed gentleman of about 40 years of age. He was slightly stout and had a fine mustache beneath which his smile gleamed at him.  
"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," Raoul graciously replied. "You have quite a nice wine list. I am waiting for my lady friend, and will possibly dine later, but perhaps some bread and butter and bring me your best wine, no matter the cost."

"Ah, then, I shall bring you a lovely Bordeaux. It is our very own, from my family's vineyard. Once a year my father and brother bring me enough to stock our small cellar. I do hope you will enjoy it." He bowed and disappeared inside. Raoul, leaning back in his seat, cast his gaze across the street and looked longingly for Christine's appearance at the door. He plucked his gold pocket watch from the vest of his dress suit and noted the time, and sighed.

But when the owner of the bistro arrived with a wine glass and an open bottle, he turned his attention to what the gentleman was doing. "This bottle is 4 year old" he said, pouring a small amount in the glass and swirled it, then offered the glass to Raoul, who repeated the swirling action, sniffed it and then tasted it. He found the taste delightful. "Very nice, my good man. Yes, please fill my glass, and leave the bottle. I will enjoy another glass until my lady friend joins me, then I shall request an additional glass for her enjoyment."

The owner, whose name was Henri Benoit, glowed with pleasure at Raoul's words. Disappearing once more, he returned with a beautiful basket filled with appetizing small breads, croissant, and rolls and a plate of fresh butter. Seeing these prizes perked up Raoul's appetite and he availed himself of a croissant which he enjoyed between sips of the fragrant red wine. Waiting for Christine had turned from a chore into a rather pleasant evening.

He was on his third glass when the owner reappeared. "Tell me about your family's vineyard, Monsieur Benoit. I am quite impressed with the caliber of this wine. I do a little investing and I would love to perhaps invest in this fine bistro, if you are in need of an investor, that is. "

Henri could not believe what he was hearing. He had owned the bistro for 12 years and it was in need of repair and new landscaping might be nice. Even the roof was known to leak now and then.  
"Sit down and join me, please Monsieur," Raoul requested. Henri seated himself across from Raoul and began his story, from his early days working at the Vineyard to learning the trade of making wine, to marriage and the decision to open a business in Paris, near the Opera House, a site sure to attract foot traffic. And it did, slowly at first, then more people would find their way to Henri's during the intermissions as well as before and after the operas and ballets. He didn't get the aristocrats. They often had private rooms at the Opera, but very

nice and well dressed men and women and often he attracted repeat business with the wine list and the fare of soups and stews. He kept a very good cook and wasn't afraid to jump in and assist him when they were busy.  
A second bottle was opened. The waiter, a young man not much older than Raoul, brought out a lovely plate of cheeses and another basket of bread.

Raoul was quite enjoying himself. He had decided to invest not only in Henri's small business but to make a trip to the vineyard and perhaps invest there, as well.

The hour was getting late. Raoul hadn't looked at his watch, but when Maurice, the young waiter bent to whisper something in Henri's ear, Henri nodded and wished Maurice a good night. Maurice nodded to Raoul and looking once behind him, turned and disappeared up the block.

"We stay open until 1 a.m. usually. There were no performances tonight, just the rehearsals going on, so I am letting Maurice go home now, it is just past 11. His wife waits up for him, you see. Except for you and me, the night has been fairly quiet. I do not expect any other business."

There was a slight chill in the air at this late hour but Raoul was feeling quite warm as was Henri, as they chatted like old friends. Raoul reached to pour the last of the bottle into Henri's glass, but Henri held up a hand, "Non, please, I insist you have the last glass", and smiling, Raoul poured the remains into his own glass. What a marvelous night! Glancing across the street he saw a small figure coming out the front entrance of the Opera House. A woman. How pretty she looked from here. And familiar, too.

"Oh, look" Raoul said to Henri. "It's Christine! Let's open another bottle!"


End file.
